


damos: Fic: Moments To Remember (B7)

by damos



Category: Blake's 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-28
Updated: 2009-11-28
Packaged: 2017-10-03 22:57:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damos/pseuds/damos





	damos: Fic: Moments To Remember (B7)

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[b7](http://damos.livejournal.com/tag/b7), [fic](http://damos.livejournal.com/tag/fic)  
  
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_ **Fic: Moments To Remember (B7)** _

Moments To Remember

  
In the past, some long forgotten battle theory teacher taught him an old chesnut about hate. Something about holding burning coals. . . The point, at any rate, had been that holding on to anger would hurt you more than the person you hated. In Tarrant's case, though, the pain of his anger seemed to make the burning spasms of pain throughout his body seem a little more tolerable.

Some of the anger was directed at his past, of course. He had, at times, treated Vila badly. Too short, too brusque, too used to working on his own. Poor Vila, he never saw it coming.

But most of the anger was directed at Avon. Bastard. Growing more capricious and oblivious to everyone else every second. And still standing. He sent her down to die. He knew it. Hell, she probably knew it. But Tarrant didn't. Not until it was far too late. Then that dismissive wave. "Oh let the little boy go down and see the death I have prepared for him." Bastard. So smug and sure of himself. Just like Blake. They deserved each other. And it looks like they are going to get to meet their fates in the same room.

And a little bit leftover for himself, again. He couldn't let the opportunity go by without rubbing it in could he. "Even you." He should have known better. Avon was--he was needy. That made him weak and afraid. And then that bastard pulled the trigger. Neither one of them seemed so smug after that.

He coughed and noticed that the blood tasted pleasantly salty in his mouth. He smiled and focused, forcing his hand to unclench and let go. . .


End file.
